


Unfinished Business

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghost!Dean - Freeform, M/M, Other characters make brief appearances, ghost!cas, notably sam and pamela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: There's an abandoned house on Dean's block, one that has a strangepresencethat seems to like Dean.Or the one where Cas is a ghost and Dean falls in love with him anyway.





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> So for those of you who follow me on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com), this might look familiar to you. It's my ghost!cas series that started as an emoji ficlet and kinda spiraled out of control. I figured since it got to be like 7k long, it was worth collecting all the parts and putting them here for easier consumption.
> 
> A couple things to note:  
> \- This is currently unedited. I put everything as it was on tumblr, so any grammar or spelling errors from the original are still there. I hope to do a quick read through, but I didn't realize how damn long this story was until I had it all ready to post.  
> \- This was written as a series on tumblr, often with weeks in between updates, so there might not be smooth transitions between parts. Currently, in this unedited version, I've put in marks to indicate where one post stopped and the next began.  
> \- Please note the MCD and "angst with a happy ending" tags. Things end up reasonably happy for our boys, but uh... I mean they're ghosts? So they died?

The house at the end of the block is abandoned.  Has been since Dean moved in.  It just sits there, falling apart a little more with each passing year and being a huge eyesore in the neighborhood.  

Which is why Dean thinks it’s strange one cold December night when he’s driving home and sees a snowman in the yard.  But whatever, right?  Maybe some kids built one there while they were out having fun.

Dean’s taking his dog for a walk when he happens by the house again and stops in his tracks.  He frowns as he looks around, breath visible in the cold air and a chill starting to settle in his lungs, but unable to keep moving.  Because there are  _no_ tracks on the ground in the abandoned yard.  

The snowman sits there, the perfect image of holiday cheer with snowflakes fluttering to the ground and the perfectly placed stone features.  And yet who the hell could’ve built it without leaving a single trace?

Every night throughout the winter, he stops by to check out the house.  The lone snowman stays, though at some point he gains a scarf.  And a snow angel joins the crowd.  Still, no footprints are nearby.  

One evening in early Januay, he finally considers looking at the house instead of just the yard.  His eyes wander up to the door, resting just slightly off its hinges.  The broken windows on the first floor that allow leaves and snow to be blown into the house.  To the chipped and peeling panels on the roof and the ivy meandering its way up the right side of the house.

And to the upstairs window, where just the barest outline of a silhouette is visible, watching him.  Dean frowns but waves hesitantly.  The figure waves back and then dissolves.  

Okay, creepy.

Dean should probably just gtfo and never look back.  Completely avoid ever walking by or looking at or even  _thinking_  of the haunted house at the end of the block.  Instead, because he’s apparently gone crazy, he leans over and uses his fingers to write in the snow.

_I like your snowman. - Dean_

When he comes back, he finds his message has been covered with a thin layer of snow, but a fresh one in cursive (jfc who has time to write in friggin  _cursive_  in the snow?) is waiting for him nearby.  

_Thank you.  I’ve noticed you admiring him. - Castiel_

The messages continue, on and on.  One short sentence after another, night by night he finds out more about Castiel.  Hell, Dean changed his morning dog walk path to include a stop by the house just so he could double the amount of messages.

He’s a ghost, obviously (that goes without saying which is good, because neither ever says anything about it), but Dean finds he kinda likes the guy.  It’s hard to come across as funny or sweet or smart when you’re writing 15 words or less at a time, but this guy nails it.

 _Tomorrow’s my birthday,_  he writes one evening.  

The next evening when he arrives, the message is shorter than usual.  Just two words.  

 _Look up_.

He does.  There in front of him, maybe ten feet away, is the ghostly apparition of a man.  Even though he’s partially see through and tinted in a bluish-white, Dean can tell he’s beautiful.  His eyes glow a particularly stunning shade of blue, and he wonders if they looked that ethereal when he was alive.

The man smiles and winks at him, before blowing him a kiss.   _Happy birthday, Dean_ , the wind whispers.  Dean shudders, swallowing thickly.  

“Thanks.”

 _Come inside.  I have a gift for you._   And then an insolid hand is beckoning him to follow.

And god help him, he does.

\----

As weird as it is - and let’s face it, it’s  _extremely_  weird - he and Castiel are kind of dating.  He is officially dating a ghost.  A friggin  _ghost_.

And he kinda loves it.

Cas is bound to the grounds of the house, not even able to step onto the sidewalk, so it’s up to Dean to visit him.  Which he has no problems with… except that it’s a broken down house with no heating or electricity to speak of and it’s the middle of friggin winter.  Ugh.

Slowly he starts bringing things over.  He starts with some LED lanterns and a portable heater.  An air mattress makes its way over, too.  Blankets obviously.  Books, which Castiel reads while Dean’s at work, and then a portable DVD player so they can watch movies together.  

Eventually enough stuff’s found its way over to Cas’ place that Dean figures he may as well buy the damn house and fix it up for real.  

So he does.  Finds out the bank owns it and gets it pretty cheap.  Doesn’t tell Cas about it or anything, just shows up one day with a key in hand.  Cas very enthusiastically fucks him that night, practically radiating happiness.  

Dean’s pretty handy, and he doesn’t like the idea of Cas having to hide out in his own house while contractors come in to fix things, so Dean does most of it himself.  Cas helps, and with the things they can’t manage together, Dean will pull in some friends.  They of course can’t understand why he’s purchased this fixer-upper in the  _same neighborhood_  as his own house, but they don’t ask.

Along the way, Dean starts cleaning out the attic.  Most of the other rooms had been empty.  Maybe a broken chair or some cob webs, but nothing personal.  The attic’s not quite as bare.  There are a couple boxes hidden in the rafters. 

One has Christmas ornaments.  Fragile things that are cracked in parts.  He puts those aside for next winter, something to add to their own tree.

The second has notebooks in them.  They’ve clearly been written in, but the paper is so old and faded that Dean can’t make out any of the words beyond the neatly written  _CASTIEL NOVAK_ written in the top corner of each of them.  A few seem to have drawings on them, but again the pages are so frail that they begin to flake apart the more he touches them.  As much as he hates to do it, he feels he’ll have to trash the whole box.

The last box is filled with old newspaper.  He uncrumples a few to read, but there’s nothing interesting about them.  Ads for services in town, an article about the local farmer’s market, something about the high school team making the playoffs.  There aren’t even dates listed, so Dean has no idea how old it is.  Buried underneath it all, though, he finds a single VHS tape.

He hides it from Cas until he can find a VCR and rig it up to the TV.  He hasn’t watched it yet, but the title’s enough for him to be excited.  They sit on the couch and watch together.

It’s a home movie.  The tape’s so old the sound cuts in and out and sometimes the images skip or the color’s not right, but it’s clearly a little boy.  Taking his first steps.  Riding a bike through this very neighborhood.  Playing in a sandbox in the backyard (one that’s no doubt currently buried under the overgrown plants Dean hasn’t been able to tackle yet).  Then older as a teenager, playing football with some friends and laughing for the camera.  

The whole thing’s about twenty minutes.  A condensed version of a young man’s life, abruptly ending when he drives off to college in a sorry looking Continental.

Castiel remembers so little of his time alive that he sits transfixed.  They play it a few more times, and after the first time Dean’s too busy watching Cas to pay the video itself any mind.  At the end of it, he can’t help but blurt out, “I love you.” 

The ghost’s eyes are wide as he turns to look at Dean, then he smiles shyly and dips in for a kiss.  “I love you too, Dean.  Thank you for finding this for me.” 

“Anytime, sunshine.”  He only wishes he had more to offer Cas.

Hmm, maybe now that he has a name he can head to the county offices to look him up…

\----

The next time Dean gets off work early, he heads to the county offices.  He has a name and an address, which should be more than enough to track down info about Castiel Novak.  His motorcycle weaves in and out of traffic, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

He’s friends with the Sheriff, not even needing to sweet talk Jody into letting him poke around some old files.  She even helps him out for a bit with the death record, points him in the right direction to find out more.

And of course she’s very curious why  _he’s_  so curious about a young man who died well over a decade ago.

“Bought his house,” he says with a shrug.  “Found some stuff in the attic.  Got a little curious.”

“I thought you lived at the old Chambers place.”

“I moved.”

Jody doesn’t know what to make of that, so she decides to pass over it.  For now.  Dean’s all too familiar with the calculating look in her eyes.  She’s not done pressing the issue, but she’s willing to bide her time.  

“Well,” Jody says just before leaving him to it, “I knew Castiel.  We went to high school together.  He was a year older than me.  I might still have my yearbooks lying around my office if you wanna take a peek.”

“I might take you up on that.”

He does.  After scouring the county records and old newspapers, making copies of everything relevant and putting it in a box an intern gives him, he heads to Jody’s office.  She’s out on a call, but she’s left the yearbooks on the corner of her desk with a post-it note reading  _Stop by for dinner some time, kid.  Miss having you around.  And call your Uncle, he misses you.  - Jody_

Smiling fondly, he pockets the note and goes through the yearbooks.  Jody’s already marked some pages for him.  There he is, Castiel Novak.  Captain of the chess club, avid runner and football player, a quote of him talking about spraining his wrist in peewee hockey.  

And the last few pages of Jody’s yearbook from her senior year, there’s a memorial of his death.  Pictures from his life and notes from classmates and friends who miss him.  And a huge glossy, black and white picture of a coffin, covered in flowers and surrounded by mourners.  

Dean slams the books shut, but puts them in with the rest of his notes all the same.

He gets home, excited to show Castiel his findings.  Then a thought occurs to him.  Is this a good idea?

Watching the home video had taken a lot out of Cas.  He was a little less corporeal after that, and a couple times he looked at Dean as though he’d never seen him before.  It worried Dean, but eventually it’d evened out.  Now, with the full story of Castiel’s life (and death) packed neatly into a little file box tied to the back of his bike, he had to figure out what to do with it.

Because if that short video could cause Castiel so many issues, what would a whole  _file_  on his life do?  There were names and dates and pictures of him with his family.  There was a friggin yearbook, for fuck’s sake.

He agonizes over the decision for a week.  In the end, Dean decides to leave well enough alone.  After putting his motorcycle in the garage next to the Impala, he grabs the box and stuffs it on the bottom shelf of his work bench.  Tosses a dirty work towel over it and puts a few tools on top to weigh it down, make it look as uninteresting as possible.

Then he goes inside and pretends he never found a damn thing.

\----

A week goes by, their usual routine of snuggling and talking and basically just reveling in the other’s company.  Cas seems content.  Hasn’t even asked to watch the home video again, so Dean selfishly lets himself think Cas wouldn’t want to know what he found out.  And why risk him flickering out of existence or forgetting things?

The decision sits with him uneasily, but he sticks to it.

When he comes home one day, he can’t find Castiel.  Not necessarily strange - the guy goes incorporeal sometimes in the ghost equivalent of “sleep” - but then Dean finds the open file box in the living room, papers scattered all over the place, and he panics.

“Oh  _fuck_.”  He searches every inch of the house for Cas, calling for him.  His dog follows, looking just as anxious as Dean.  But even between the two of them, they can’t find Castiel.

Dean packs everything back in the box just for something to do.  He makes dinner and eats by himself, occasionally feeding some scraps to the dog.  Worry fills him, growing every moment Cas remains gone.  His sleep is restless and filled with shapeless dreams that only make him feel worse.

He wakes up alone, and he hates the feeling.

Two days he doesn’t see Castiel.  Two days filled with nothing but anxiety and jumping at every sound hoping it’s Cas coming back.  Two days to berate himself for having ever taken that box home.  Two days to let it sink in that he might  **never**  see Cas again.  

On the third day, he comes home and there’s Castiel in the living room, looking at the photos on the bookshelf.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean breathes out in relief.  

The ghost turns to look at him, tilting his head in confusion.  “Who are you?  What are you doing here?”

It feels like his heart’s been ripped out of his chest.  His face freezes in a grimace.  “What?”

“What are you doing in my house?”

“I..”  He swallows the lump in his throat.  “I’m Dean.  I… I live here.”

“Impossible.  My parents wouldn’t have sold the house.  I’ve only been at college for a year, they wouldn’t just  _leave_  and not tell me.”

“Cas…”  He manages to keep his voice even and calm, even though there’s a hint of a desperate edge to it.  Dean holds his hands up to try and calm the ghost as he takes a step forward.  “Your parents moved out a long time ago.”

“Why would they leave?  My grandparents bought them this house.  They’d  _tell me_.”

“Cas, sweetheart…  There’s something I gotta tell you.”  He reaches out to touch Cas but his fingers go right through him.  Castiel jerks away violently, staring in horror.

“What was that?  What happened?  I don’t…”  He winces, doubling over in pain and holding his head.  “The car… the car hit me.  I was just trying to get to class… I was on the  _crosswalk_ … It… it hit me.  It  _hurt.”_ Cas looks up at Dean, eyes wide and full of agony.

“It’s okay, Cas, it’s over-”  Dean reaches out again, but Castiel’s look hardens in anger.

“No!” he screams.  “NO!”  And then in a blinding burst of light that radiates outwards and actually knocks things off the shelves as it passes, he disappears.  

“Cas?” Dean whispers, looking around.  “Cas?  Cas!  Castiel!  Come back!”  He whirls around for any trace of the ghost but sees nothing.  “Come back…”

_What have I done?_

\----

The only soothing part of Dean’s day is walking his dog. Mostly because it gets him out of the house, where he’s spent hours upon hours looking for Cas. Every now and then he’d catch flashes of his ghostly form before Cas blinked out of existence again. Sometimes he’d hear his voice, though the words were indistinct.  And a few times, late at night, he’d feel cool but familiar arms around him.  

That last part was probably just dreaming and wishful thinking.

They stop in a park and Dean takes a seat on a bench.  He suddenly feels so old and tired.  He had a good thing going with Cas, and he had to ruin it by being greedy.  If he’d just left well enough alone, Cas would still be around.  He wouldn’t be burdened with memories of his death.  That’s gotta be an awful thing to have to remember, and it’s all Dean’s fault.  No wonder Cas having trouble.  Some careless driver took Cas’ life from him, and now Dean’s just as carelessly taken his afterlife.

He buries his face in his hands and cries.  It’s been over a month and he’s so fucking lonely and miserable.  He’s tired of trying to keep it together and be strong.  He just wants his boyfriend back.  

A cold nose presses into his cheek.  He looks up to see his dog staring at him with worried eyes. 

“I’m okay,” he says, pulling the mutt in for a hug.  “I mean, I’m not okay, but… Yeah.”

Dean sniffles and wipes his eyes.  He holds his dog close, seeking comfort.  When he looks up, he’s surprised to see big fluffy snowflakes falling from a cloudy sky.  He can barely see the moon peeking out above the treeline.  Fuck, has winter already crept up on him? He and Cas met last winter because of snow, and now nearly a year later he’s gone and-

 _No_.  He jumps to his feet, startling his poor dog.   _That’s it_ , he resolves.  _I’m going to find Cas and get him back. We’re going to spend our anniversary **together**  and that’s that._ 

Feeling a lot better than he has in weeks, he heads home to set his plan in motion.

\----

Pamela claims to be a psychic.  Dean’s been friends with her for a few years now, and admittedly she seems to know more than she should about a lot of things.  He wouldn’t go so far as to say  _psychic_ , but he’s not exactly in a position to be picky.

“Hey Pamela…” he starts one day when their group of friends is at a bar.

“You finally gonna ask for me help?”

“Uh, what?”

“You’ve had paranormal energy around you for a while now, Deano.  I was a little worried, but  _you_  weren’t worried so I didn’t say anything.  But lately I’ve been getting none of that energy but I  _have_  been sensing how incredibly stressed out you are.  So… you asking for my help?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open in surprise before he laughs and shakes his head.  He’s not even surprised, if anything he’s realized that Pamela might actually be what she claims.  After looking around to make sure no one’s listening, he explains the situation to her.  He tells her everything: about how he met Cas; about him moving in there; that they’re dating (and even though he skips the sex stuff, she waggles her eyebrows in a way that makes him think she knows way more than he’s willing to actually say out loud); that he found out about Cas’ past; and how Castiel went all loopy when he found out about it and disappeared.

“Wow,” Pamela says with a whistle as she finishes off her beer.  “You’ve gotten yourself quite a mess there, Winchester.”

“Tell me about it.  You gonna help or what?”

“Course I’m gonna help.”  

“Great.  So go home, grab your crystal ball, throw some salt around, say abracadabra, and get me my boyfriend back.”

“Not how it works.”  Pamela shrugs apologetically.  “It ain’t that easy.  Wish it was, but it isn’t.”  She digs through her purse to find a piece of paper and starts writing out notes for him.  “This is what I’m gonna need you to do…  You’re gonna keep track of all the cold spots in your house.  The colder the better.  If it’s the same spot at certain times of day, write it down.  If it varies and has no pattern, write that down and try to find one anyway.”

“Okay, that’s not so hard-”

“I should hope not.  Here’s the tricky part… You’re going to have to get a hold of lover boy’s remains.  Which means you’re going to have to dig him up or find his ashes.  You don’t need  _all_  of them, but you need  _something_.”

Dean gapes at her.  “How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Don’t look at me.  He’s your beau and you’re living in his house.  Figure it out.  Dig up his grave or go talk to his ma and pa about it.  Don’t know, don’t care, just do it.  Then you’re gonna have to buy  _these_ -” She tears off the sheet of paper and smacks it on the table in front of him. “All of those types of candles.  There’s a decent Wiccan stores in the area, try them.  Tell them I sent you and they might even give you a discount.”

There’s the weirdest list of candle types he’s ever heard of, but he doesn’t bother saying anything about it.  “Fine.  Then what?”

“Call me and I’ll come over and try to summon you a ghost.”

Unsurprisingly, it takes Dean a while to follow her instructions.  The candles he gets that day on the way home, but it takes a little bit of work to figure out a pattern to the cold spots.  The only consistent thing seems to be at night in his room.

And of course the trickiest part is getting a  _piece_  of Castiel.

He finds out that although Cas has a grave and a coffin and all that, he was cremated.  Some of his ashes are in his grave, but his parents presumably kept some as well.  Dean looks them up in the phonebook, relieved they only live a few towns over.  He debates whether or not to tell them the truth, but in the end decides that they’ve probably moved on by now, and mentioning their dead son would only bring up bad memories.  Besides, he doesn’t even know if he can get Cas back.  It just seems cruel to tell them, only for them to hope and then lose their son all over again.

He goes to their house and offers the kindly looking older couple free estimates to replace their windows.  Hell, he’ll give them the damn windows for free, he doesn’t care how many strings he has to pull at work, he’ll make it happen.  While they leave him alone to measure, he grabs a ziplock bag from their kitchen and scoops some of the ashes from the urn on their mantle into it.  

(And maybe stares at the pictures of Cas they have surrounding it, soaking in how beautiful he was.  Is.  Was?  Fuck.)

Once he’s gotten everything ready, Pamela comes over one night during the full moon.  She draws a circle on the floor of the bedroom, carefully putting all the candles inside and lighting them one by one.  When she’s ready, Dean hands over the small leather pouch containing Cas’ ashes.

“I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me in this circle,” she chants over and over, clutching the pouch to her chest.  The candles flicker and a chill passes over him.  “Castiel?” Pamela asks as she breaks off her chant.  “Castiel!  I command you, show yourself!”

More corporeal than he’s been in months, Castiel appears and falls into Dean’s arms.  “Dean!” he sobs, wrapping around him tightly.  Dean instantly has him in a fierce embrace, as if just holding him will stop Cas from disappearing again.

“He’s bound to this now,” Pamel says, putting the pouch on Dean’s dresser.  “You should be able to keep him around.”

“Thanks Pamela,” he mouths and waves good-bye.  He has Cas back, and there’s no way he’s letting go.

\----

Cas cries in Dean’s arms that night, clutching him tightly.  Neither wants to let go, too afraid of what might happen if they do. When he’s calmed down enough to talk, he tells Dean how horrible it was.  That he was there but not there.  Sometimes he’d try to make himself visible but couldn’t.  Often, he was nowhere.  Sounds and visions might drift to him, but it was obscured to the point of nonsense.

Dean was his tether, giving him strength and keeping him sane.  Not completely sane - Cas admits there were times he didn’t remember who he was or what had happened to him, couldn’t recognize Dean or understand why he was there - but enough that it gave him hope. 

“I just wanted to get back to you,” he whispers.

“And I just wanted you back,” Dean answers.  “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have dug around your past-”

He’s cut off by a kiss, his lips tingling where Cas’ form touches him.  “Let’s not talk about it anymore.  I’m here now, that’s all that matters.”

They hold each other in bed until Dean falls asleep, and he wakes up with Cas still there and he’s just so fucking  _relieved_.  It takes them some time to be comfortable not touching, and after that they won’t leave the same room.  Dean takes a week off work and orders take-out for every meal, only leaving the house to walk the dog but even then not going out of sight of the house.  

Eventually they relax.  Cas seems in control again, and as he keeps assuring Dean, he’s not going anywhere.  Slowly, Dean starts to believe it and goes back to work.

It takes a few weeks for him to remember the pouch.

“So when you bringing lover boy out for drinks?” Pamela asks at one of Charlie’s game nights.

“Uh, what?” he asks dumbly.

“Your ghost boy?  Why not bring him out with you?  I’m dying to meet him when you two aren’t all freaked out.”

“… What?” he repeats.  “I can’t.  Cas can’t leave the house.”

Pamela looks at him like he’s particularly stupid.  “I bound him to that bag of ashes.  If you take the bag with you, he can go wherever you do.  Or he can stay at the house - that seems to have a stronger pull on him, but the pouch should be enough to get him out of there.”

Dean’s nice enough to stay for another half hour before he rushes home to test that.  Pamela’s right - as long as Dean has the pouch with him, Cas can follow.  They start off slow, only going for a walk around the block, but they push it more and more.  Castiel’s absolutely delighted to be able to leave.  They start going on dates, but it requires some creativity.  Cas keeps himself invisible most of the time, but that doesn’t stop them from going to the beach or skiing together for the day.

It leaves Cas tired afterward.  He has maybe twenty four hours before his form is flickering in and out, so they try to keep it short.  He needs a day or two to recharge after that, but at least he doesn’t disappear anymore.

After that, they start to introduce Cas to Dean’s friends and family.  They do it at home, of course, to make it less stressful for Cas.  First it’s Pamela, obviously, and Charlie.  They’re the more open-minded of Dean’s friends, so he feels like that’s the best way to test the waters.  More and more after that, until pretty much everyone that’s important to Dean has stopped by and met him.

(His meeting with Jody is particularly tearful - they remember each other, at least a little, but Jody’s glad to see he’s okay, in a way, and he’s glad to hear about some of their mutual friends.)

Sam teases him about how he’s going to marry a ghost.  Dean brushes it off, but the word “marry” sounds nicer and more tempting than he’d like to admit.  Not right now, but maybe someday soon.

\----

Pamela warns them there are only two ways for things to end, and neither is good.  Ghosts are just people with unfinished business.  People who died by surprise and still have things they want to do.  But once they either accept that they can’t finish it, or they actually somehow  _do_  manage to finish it, they move on.

Which means, as Pamela spells out for them, their options are…

Cas figures out what his unfinished business is and moves on, leaving Dean alone for the rest of his life.

OR… Cas doesn’t, and when Dean dies and moves on to whatever’s next, Cas will be left behind.  Alone.  Forever.

“Well then we’ll just have to figure out what your unfinished business is and finish it,” Dean says as he starts going through his files on Castiel’s life (and death).  

“But Dean… If I finish it, I’ll leave you again.”

“I don’t want you stuck forever as a ghost, Cas.  You deserve to move on.”

There’s silence, which Dean mistakes for acceptance, until Castiel whispers, “I understand if you’d like me gone, so you can move on and find someone living to spend your life with.  But I’d rather not leave.  If you’d like to break up, I could handle it.  We could just be friends, and-”

He’s cut off by Dean grabbing him and kissing him fiercely.  Cradling Cas’ ghostly face between his hands, Dean puts their foreheads together and very sternly says, “Don’t you  _ever_  think I don’t want you.  You’re it for me, you stupid ghost.  I’d rather have  _you_ , dead or alive.”

Castiel  _wants_  to believe, but the words are too good and he simply doesn’t deserve them.  “Then why are you trying to help me with my unfinished business?”

One more kiss on his nose, then Dean’s back to looking through the files.  “Like I said, you deserve to move on and not be a ghost stuck here for the rest of your life… Er, afterlife?  The point is, I know I’d hate having to leave you when I die, and I don’t like thinking about you being here alone.  I want you with me in heaven or wherever.”

The ease with which Dean speaks of an eternity together is truly touching, and Castiel surely would be blushing if he could.  “Really?”

“Of course.”  Dean looks up with a reassuring smile.  “I love you.  You gotta know that.  Besides, it’s not like we have to take care of your unfinished business  _now_.  We figure out what it is, and save it for when I’m like seventy or eighty or however old.”  Dean frowns.  “Damn, you’re still gonna be smoking hot and I’m gonna be an old man.”

“I’ll love you all the same,” Castiel reassures.  It’s the least he can do given how much Dean’s just opened up to him.  

“So what do you think?  The guy who hit you?  Maybe saying good-bye to your parents?  What would Castiel Novak want to do before he died that he didn’t get to?”

“I don’t know,” he admits.  His memories are still foggy, but neither of those suggestions sound right.  If anyone were to ask him what he wants more than anything else, it’d be Dean, plain and simple.  Anything from his past can remain his past for all he cares.

They think on it for a bit, brainstorming a list.  Dean won’t let Cas cross anything out “just in case” (”I don’t think I’m stuck as an incorporeal ghost because I didn’t win a talent show, Dean.” “Dude, you never know!”), but none feel right.  The list is forgotten most of the time.  They’re too busy enjoying each other’s company, too busy living (because it’s hard to deny that Cas is living, even if he’s not technically alive).

Until the day Dean doesn’t come home.

\----

Castiel doesn’t worry at first.  Dean usually sends word if he’ll be out late or maybe crash at a friend’s place; he dutifully calls home and leaves a message on the answering machine.  This time there’s no call, but Cas is willing to assume he simply forgot or his phone ran out of power.

The next day, Dean doesn’t return home either, and Castiel’s more concerned.  He lets the dog out into the backyard, feeds him and gives him fresh water, and silently worries.  As a ghost, there are many things he can manipulate and touch.  Taking care of the dog is no issue; reading a book is a favorite way for him to pass the time; if he’s feeling particularly strong or adventurous, he’ll prepare dinner for Dean.

But electronics are spotty at best.  Maybe he can get the TV to turn in, but often the picture will buzz in and out of focus if Castiel’s the only one around.  When Dean or other people are around, the effect is diluted unless Castiel physically interacts with the device.  Even when he cooks, he doesn’t trust himself with the microwave or oven, limiting his preparation to sandwiches or salads.  

So of course, Castiel can’t even  _call_  anyone to find out what happened.  One day becomes two, which becomes three, and still no Dean.  No messages on the machine, nothing.  Castiel gets so agitated at one point, that he flickers out of phase again.  He goes to that in between place he was stuck in before Dean recovered some of his ashes, vaguely aware that time is passing but unable to pull enough strands of consciousness together and reform.

Eventually, when he does, he finds he’s not alone in the house.  

Sam is sitting on the couch, looking forlorn as he stares into space.  He frowns, petting the dog absentmindedly.  Most distressingly of all, he has a bandage along his face and a black eye.  Castiel appears in front of him, and the man startles before flashing a small smile.  

“Hey Cas.”

“Hello, Sam.”  He’s met the younger Winchester a few times.  He lives in another town, only an hour away but still far enough that he’s not around as often as Dean would like.  Castiel’s earlier worry intensifies, and he forces the words out, “Where’s Dean?”

Sam winces and turns away, unable to meet Castiel’s eye.  “There was an accident.  A car accident.”

Car accident?

Castiel shuts his eyes as his hands ball into fists; it takes considerable effort, but he keeps the vivid flashbacks at bay.  He doesn’t want to relive that moment - his  _last_  moment - ever again, but now especially.  “Tell me,” he begs once he’s regained control.

“I surprised Dean.  Wanted to… wanted to tell him the good news in person.  Jess is pregnant, he’s gonna be… he was gonna be…”  Sam deflates, buries his face in his hands.  “He was gonna be an uncle.”

“ _Was_?”

There’s tragedy in that question, no matter what or whose it is, but he  _has_  to know.

“We went out to celebrate.  Didn’t even drink that much, maybe three beers between us.  We were heading back here to tell you.  He was so fucking excited…  Even got this at the gas station.”  Sam pulls a keychain out of his pocket, engraved with a baby angel and the words ‘Best Uncle.’  “We were hit.  Side swiped by someone running a red light.  The car… it hit on Dean’s side.  He…”  

Sam looks up at him with pleading eyes, filled with so much pain.  Pain Castiel would be feeling soon, he had no doubt, but right now he was numb.  Until Sam said the words, Castiel could pretend they weren’t true.

“He was dead before the ambulance got to the hospital.  I’m… I’m sorry Cas.  He’s gone.”

\----

Sam salvaged the pouch containing Cas’ ashes from the mess of Dean’s bloody clothes.  Castiel tries not to think about that as he saw the crimson stained leather.  It’s easier not to think about the specifics of how Dean died and instead focus on the fact that he was gone; imagining the blood and the strangled gasps as he breathed his last breathes was too much.

The point is…  Castiel can travel to Dean’s funeral.  He can stay there, out of sight, while he joins in the mourning for the man whose life was so cruelly snatched away before it should have been.  He listens to their kind words and feels their love and loss as acutely as his own.  It doesn’t take any of his own pain away, but it helps to know he’s not alone.

He also spares a moment to think of his parents, who lost him years ago.  About the friends and family who had to move on and don’t know he’s still around.  It makes him question his decision to remain hidden from them, but only for a moment.  The pain of Dean’s death is still very real and poignant; even though he knows it’ll fade, he doesn’t relish the possibility of having the wound reopened.  To everyone in his old life, Castiel is a part of their past; a painful part, but one they’ve put behind them.

Pamela looks pointedly at him as they start putting the first shovelfuls of dirt on the grave.  There’s an unspoken question there:  _Are you sure?  You can still get some of his ashes or strands of hair.  Something to tie him to you._

He shook his head slightly, not wanting to do that to Dean.   Castiel has no doubt that Pamela could conjure Dean’s spirit and bind him the same way she did Castiel.  The very idea is nauseating.  He may be stuck here on earth, bound by some unfinished business he can’t even remember, but it would be cruel to try and do that to Dean.  

After the funeral and memorial service afterward, Sam drives him back home.

“Dean left me the house,” Sam says as they turn into the driveway.  “Told me to make sure you had somewhere to stay if something happened to him.  I’ll come in and check on you when I can, plus Charlie and Benny and Pamela all have keys.  We’ll keep you company.  And I’ll help you figure out your unfinished business so you can… move on.”

Castiel nods in thanks, but he can’t find the strength to voice any words.  He gets out of the car with a wave, floating towards and then through the door into the house.  It’s so damn lonely without Dean.  Even the dog’s gone, given over to Sam’s family.  What’s he supposed to do with a whole eternity ahead of him?  He barely remembers what it was like before Dean came into his world, and he hates the idea of having to go back to that listless existence.  There but not there, around but unable to interact with anyone unless they chose to come to him.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice anything strange at first.  That’s how he manages to wander all the way to the bedroom before he senses anything’s off.  His plan was to curl up in the blankets, clutch the pillows close and pretend they were Dean.  It would hurt when the fantasy ended, but it would hold the grief at bay for a while, and he needed that after the funeral.  

What he doesn’t expect to find is Dean, propped up against the headboard with his glasses on, reading a book.  

“Hey Cas,” he beams at his boyfriend, patting the bed next to him.  “Where you been?”

\----

His journey through death is not the same as Dean’s.

Castiel appeared in his childhood home one day, already well after it’d been abandoned, and has been there ever since.  He had almost no actual memories to keep him company, only a general sense of familiarity.  He knew which room had been his, knew which floorboards creaked (although the number grew and grew as the house fell into decay), knew which windows had the best views.  

Learning about his past, seeing his former self… It had been such a shock to his system that he’d almost flickered out of existence.

Dean, however, knows exactly who he is.  This is his house and Castiel is his boyfriend and that’s that.  He can rattle off all sorts of facts about himself - the names of his friends, where he went to school, the address of his job, all of that’s still there - without any danger of disappearing.  

The only thing he  _can’t_  remember is the fact that he’s dead.

If their situations are at all similar, Castiel suspects the shock might send him flickering out of existence.  He avoids bringing it up or alluding to it, derails any conversations that might lead to that uncomfortable truth.  

“Where’s the dog?”

“Have I eaten lately?  I don’t feel hungry but I don’t think I have…”

“How come you don’t feel cold anymore?”

“Why don’t I dream anymore?  I feel like I just lay there all night and kinda… drift between consciousness and unconsciousness.”

Luckily Dean’s perception of time is as skewed as Castiel’s once was, so it’s easy to deflect him and occupy his attention elsewhere.

Like with sex, which is surprisingly satisfying.  Strange - they’re able to do things that no human could, and at times their forms blend so completely they’re almost one - but more pleasurable than when Dean was alive.  Castiel feels guilty each time he thinks that, though, or any time he finds himself grateful to have Dean with him.  He didn’t  _want_  this for Dean.  He wanted Dean to move on, to get his own slice of heaven, not to be stuck in this drab house with another ghost.

Eventually, though, Dean figures it out.

Sam leaves a message, saying that he’s going to stop by and pick up some of Dean’s things.  Says he’d be happy to hang out with Cas for a bit, or take him out of the house if he’s going stir crazy.  

“What’s he talking about?” Dean asks, then leans in to press the replay button.  The answering machine makes a terrible cackling noise when Dean touches it and stops the second Dean jerks his hand away.  “Cas, what’s going on?”

With a sigh, Castiel takes Dean to the couch and sits him down.  As gently as he can, he tells Dean what happened.  About his death and his apparent return as a ghost.  How he must have unfinished business that kept him around, and Cas will do anything in his power to make sure it gets done and-

“Well, that’s an easy one,” Dean says.  “My unfinished business is  _you_.  Making sure  _you’re_  okay and not alone.  I’m here as long as you are, Cas.”

Strangely, Dean doesn’t disappear or get upset the way Castiel did when his world was shattered.  They find out the answer quickly enough: Dean’s blood is mixed with Castiel’s ashes; he’s bound and grounded as thoroughly as Castiel is, not only to the house but to the pouch.  Wherever one can go, the other can now follow.

Sam gets the shock of his life when he stops by and sees Dean.  Incorporeal with an unnatural aura surrounding him, but still Dean.  It causes a huge adjustment to Sam’s plans.  First off, he buys the house next door.

He’d already been thinking about it when he found out Jess was pregnant, wanting to be closer to Dean and their friends.  They’d put off the move after Dean’s death, but now that he’s around, they can’t help but want to be close.  They want Dean, no matter what he’s like now, to get to spend time with his future niece or nephew.  

With them so close, and the support of their friends, Dean and Cas still get to do a lot of the things they did when Dean was alive.  They travel on day trips.  They go to movies.  They go to the grocery store (though mostly just to keep snacks and beer at their place to entice their friends to visit).  They go for walks with the dog (which only requires them to tie their shared pouch to his collar, then they can go as far as they please).  

It’s not heaven, not technically, but it’s happily ever after for them.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Bonus Scene:**  
>  You _know_ every descendant of Sam's gets into arguments with their parents and threatens to run away. Their parents will roll their eyes, knowing full well where this goes because _they_ said the same thing. Sure enough, the kid "runs away"... to Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas' house next door. The ghosts watch over them with bemused expressions, and the kid thinks they've got it made. Except, you know, ghosts don't eat or anything, so there's no food. And Dean and Cas can be kind of creepy at night, whether they mean to be or not. The house is old and there are weird noises at night and OH GOD THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA MOM DAD I'M SORRY CAN I COME BACK HOME!?


End file.
